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Poem

I feel it, first as a stir,
turning deep in the murky water.
Surfaces up for air, a twitch
on the lake in my head.
A flip, and it disappears.

Poem

The night was as dark as an ink well,
For the moon had gone visiting elsewhere,
But by the scuffling sounds around me,
I knew there was someone there.

Red Cherry Red
Poem

Standing by the river, my face grew
into a flat fish and floated off
to a lily pad, and I was lonely
without myself, without my twin.